


Of Mochaccinos and Missed Opportunities

by Serendipity8832



Series: Mochaccinos 'Verse [1]
Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Oops, Overuse Of Parentheses, Rated teen for language, Six is an angel, Two and Five are an unstoppable force and I love them, but we all knew this, little bit of sadness snuck in there, one is an asshole, set before the movie takes place, spreading my Six/Four agenda to the world, this is my first time posting a fic so I'm just going to pretend I know what I'm doing, this was only supposed to be like 1000-2000 words what happened, this was supposed to be shippier but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serendipity8832/pseuds/Serendipity8832
Summary: “Come on, then.  We’ve got the time, why can’t we just live like normal people?”One blinked at her for a moment, seemingly short circuiting before words exploded from his mouth.  “Because we’re not alive like ‘normal people!’  Or have you forgotten that little fact of our discontinued existence?”Or: During the car chase, Six mentioned that the crew got mochaccinos next to the Uffizi before the mission, and my gay brain went “coffee date?”  This isn’t exactly that, but it’s something, so I hope you like it!
Relationships: Five | Amelia & Four | Billy (6 Underground), Four | Billy/Six (6 Underground)
Series: Mochaccinos 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154108
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Of Mochaccinos and Missed Opportunities

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll admit that I’m a little surprised that this movie is what finally prompted me to get an actual ao3 account, but what can I say? These madlads live in my head rent free (because they’re ghosts who don’t have to pay rent) and this fandom, and this pairing specifically, are criminally underrepresented, so apparently I felt the need to help fix that.
> 
> I’m not going to lie, this fic is self indulgent as hell, but isn’t that why everyone writes? Anyway, if you’re going to criticize, please do so constructively. I’m always looking to improve my writing, but just saying “This sucks” doesn’t help me do that. Thank you!

“No.”

“But, One—”

“I said no. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Six looked almost murderous, glaring darkly at One, but reluctantly kept his mouth shut. Surprisingly, it was Two who took up the argument next.

“One, we all know the plan as well as we’re going to. We’re not going to do ourselves any favors by overthinking it now. And how often do the rest of you make it to Florence?” Her question was met by shrugs from most of the other ghosts and a soft “Nunca” from Three. “Come on, then. We’ve got the time, why can’t we just live like normal people?”

One blinked at her for a moment, seemingly short circuiting before words exploded from his mouth. “Because we’re not alive like ‘normal people!’ Or have you forgotten that little fact of our discontinued existence?” He took a fortifying breath before continuing at a (slightly) lower volume. “Besides, we have to keep a low profile, unless you want a bullet in your brain the moment we step foot in that lawyer’s office tomorrow morning.”

“I wouldn’t end up with a bullet in my brain,” Two said, as though she could guarantee the prevention of that outcome through sheer will.

“Yeah, of course you wouldn’t,” One muttered, resting his forehead on his hand.

“You might,” Two added like it was an afterthought. One opened his mouth to respond, probably angrily if the vein twitching on his forehead was any indication, but Five beat him to it.

“Antagonizing him won’t help our case, Two.”

“‘Our case?’” One echoed, looking despairingly between the two women. From his position just out of the range of One’s immediate focus, Six smiled.

“We’re all sick of this hotel room. I feel like a fucking prisoner here,” Five continued, to nods of agreement from the other ghosts. “A breath of fresh air, that’s all we’re asking for. Just one day.”

The sigh that burst out of One didn’t seem voluntary. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No!” Two replied cheerfully. “We’ll make your life hell if we have to.”

“You already make my life hell,” One said, words muffled by the hand he scrubbed over his face. “Jesus Christ. Fine. Fine!” He threw his hands up in the universal gesture for “I give up!” Two and Five shared a victorious high five, while Six looked like he was just barely restraining himself from actually jumping up and down. Even Three seemed relieved at the opportunity to escape the oppressive hotel. 

“But if we’re doing this, there are going to be rules.” One’s announcement received a collective groan, five voices merging to express their displeasure. “You two,” he said, brandishing a finger at Two and Three, “no guns and no fights.” Although Two’s stoic expression didn’t so much as waver, Three looked vaguely put out. “You, actually, will probably be fine,” One continued, passing over Five to turn the accusing digit on Four, who gasped with mock affront.

“I didn’t even say anything, what did I do?” he asked, although privately he felt it was pretty clear where he stood on the matter. He’d just been enjoying the spectacle that was Two and Five’s combined power too much to interject himself.

“Stay on the ground.” One had the air of a parent scolding his child for climbing too high in a tree. Four was torn between amusement at the family dynamic that had snuck in despite One’s constant denial, and irritation at the condescension in One’s tone. He didn’t have time to decide which he felt more before One moved on.

“And you.” Six’s smile shrank, although it couldn’t seem to disappear completely, as he attempted to reign in his enthusiasm enough to appear serious in the face of whatever sentence One was about to hand down. The man in charge pressed his hand to his forehead again, shaking his head slightly. “Just, please, for the love of God, drive like a normal person. Save the crazy shit for tomorrow.”

“Can do,” Six replied, voice steady even as that grin broke across his face again. It made Four want to smile too, seeing him that happy.

One shook his head again, muttering to himself (it sounded suspiciously like “this is _such_ a bad idea”) before clapping his hands together loud enough to startle Four. “Alright!” he said, the enthusiasm in his voice almost painfully affected and the smile on his face so obviously fake it looked more like a grimace. “If this is gonna happen, let’s just get this shitshow on the road. Where are we going?”

“I had some ideas about that, actually,” Six started, pulling out his phone, presumably to show said ideas to One. The other ghosts barely had to glance at each other to collectively agree to leave the destination up to Six. He’d been the most excited to go out, and besides, he was driving, so technically he was the only one who actually needed to know where they were headed.

Fitting six people in the neon green car proved to be a difficult task, but eventually they managed it, with Five practically sitting in Two’s lap, Three pressed against the opposite door, and Four wedged between them. Six and One, of course, were seated comfortably in the front. Four couldn’t resent Six for that, but he also couldn’t help but wish it was One who had Five’s arm in front of his face and Three’s elbow digging into his ribs instead of him. And if that put Four up in the front seat with Six, well, that was just a bonus.

“Everyone’s alright with some music, right?” Six asked, not bothering to wait for a response before pushing a slider on the silver contraption rigged to the speakers. Four caught One’s jaw clenching at the Spice Girls and tried (unsuccessfully) to hide his smirk. No one on the team could deny that it was fun to push One’s buttons, for all he was the leader of their group.

Four didn’t think they were going far, but the traffic (which Six could have avoided easily, if he hadn’t been trying to actually obey the Florence traffic laws) made the drive just long enough for him to zone out. He only caught himself nodding along to the music when Five poked his thigh, tearing his eyes away from the back of Six’s head to meet her knowing stare.

“What?” he asked when her expression didn’t change.

“What?” she parroted back, prompting One to twist around and fix them with his patented “the only acceptable bullshit is _my_ bullshit” stare.

“I swear to God, if you two start arguing, I will turn this fucking car around.”

“But you’re not even the one driving it,” Four pointed out, completely reasonably in his opinion.

“I’ll find a way,” One forced through gritted teeth. Four didn’t doubt that he would.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence (the music was still playing, of course, despite the fact that One seemed perpetually three seconds from tearing the radio out with his bare hands). By the time Six put the car in park, Four had almost forgotten that there was actually a point to the ride. That’s not to say he wasn’t grateful to be out of the backseat; there generally weren’t too many people walking around on roofs, so Four wasn’t exactly used to having his sphere of personal space so thoroughly violated.

“Be aware of your surroundings,” One instructed as they all piled out of the car doors. “Try to remember everything you can. You never know what’ll be useful day of.”

“I thought we were here to forget about the mission for a day,” Three mumbled, rolling his shoulders. One didn’t hesitate to get right up in his face.

“Never, and I mean _never_ , forget about the mission,” he hissed. Four had the distant realization that that quiet, low tone was infinitely scarier than any screaming or yelling One could do. Suffice it to say, no one was brave enough to mention forgetting the mission after that.

“I thought you said no fighting,” Two said, impassive as always. It was hard to tell if she was just trying to diffuse the tension or seriously calling One out. Either way, One backed down (not without glaring at Two, who didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest) and faced Six, who had made it further from the car than any of the rest of them, which was to say about three feet.

“So, Oh Mighty Driver of The Car, where exactly did you bring us?”

“Well,” Six began, either not picking up on or (more likely in Four’s professional opinion) willfully ignoring the sarcasm practically dripping off of One’s words, “I saw this little café when we came in, and I thought, ‘We’re in Italy, we _have_ to get some good Italian coffee while we’re here,’ and this seemed like a good place for that. So here we are!”

The kid’s excitement must have been catching, because Four thought he could see even Two crack the tiniest of smiles as they all followed him into the café. A quick scan of the menu had Four questioning what letters even meant, but he felt like he couldn’t be blamed for the fact that fancy Italian coffees weren’t exactly his forte. It didn’t look like it was going to matter, anyway; in the glance he had taken, Six seemed to have decided for everyone.

“Mochaccino? Mochaccino?” he asked, looking between the ghosts. Their collective lack of response seemed to be answer enough for him, because he turned back to the cashier with a bright smile. “Sei mochaccino, per favore.”

The young woman raised an eyebrow at the order, but dutifully punched it into the cash register. “Saranno 20.69 euro.” Here Six’s smile faltered briefly as he glanced back at One, who sighed and rolled his eyes before digging out his wallet.

“Our gracious benefactor,” Five muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Four to hear. He had to disguise his laugh as a cough when One glared over his shoulder. The man really did a lot of glaring for someone who had convinced five other people to legally kill themselves in order to enact his do-gooder/insane revenge scheme. Although Four supposed it was technically on the rest of the team for falling for his business pitch in the first place. (If a crazy man appears in your vicinity and tells you he’s putting together a crew of dead people to violently depose a dictator and your first, second, and third reactions aren’t immediately “What the fuck?!” then really, you’re the one with the problem.)

There wasn’t a table large enough to fit all six of them, so Two started pushing one across the café floor. As soon as he realized what she was doing, Four hurried to the table nearest hers and moved it as well. Both tables made a horrid screeching sound as they were forcibly relocated, causing more than a few of the café’s patrons and staff to cast unsavory glances at the team, but enough time spent with One had made them all functionally immune to such things.

The setup they had created was actually pretty awful, since Two’s table was square and Four’s was round, but they all crammed in together anyway. Nothing could have been worse than the car ride to get there. Besides, Four wasn’t trapped between Five and Three this time. No, somehow he’d ended up next to Six (later, he wouldn’t be able to tell you who was on his other side).

“So, what exactly is a mochaccino, anyway? Just what it sounds?” Four asked. He was pretty sure he knew what to expect, but having never had one, he figured it couldn’t hurt to get some confirmation, and Six seemed happy to provide it.

“Yeah, it’s a cappuccino with chocolate,” he said with the air of someone who knew what he was talking about. “The cheap places just put chocolate syrup in them, but I’m pretty sure any self-respecting café in Italy would go under before resorting to that. If they don’t use actual chocolate, which they might, then they’ll use cocoa powder and sugar. Of course, if they do use chocolate, the question becomes milk or dark…”

Four tried to pay attention, he really did, but he couldn’t exactly say he found the composition of a mochaccino fascinating. It wasn’t like he was ignoring Six, anyway; he’d simply transitioned from focusing on his words to listening to the sound of his voice. Those were practically equivalent, right?

He neglected to react to the first few times someone’s foot nudged his leg. There’d been a lot of shuffling around when they had first seated themselves, and he figured it was just a byproduct of that. But when toes jabbed sharply into his shin, he cut his eyes to the side, looking for the culprit. It wasn’t hard to figure out; Five was seated across from him, the most obvious expression of false innocence plastered on her face. When she saw that she’d captured Four’s attention, however briefly, she flicked her eyes back and forth between him and Six. He narrowed his eyes at her in response, pointedly looking away when she revealed the smallest of smug grins.

The mochaccinos arrived just then, saving Four from any further harassment as everyone’s attention was absorbed by the drinks. Six smiled at the man who set his on the table, saying a quick “Grazie” and receiving an equally quick “Prego” accompanied by a flash of teeth for his efforts. Four definitely did not start sipping his mochaccino out of jealousy, and despite not being much of a coffee person (yes, he preferred tea; some stereotypes are based in truth, sue him, except you actually couldn’t since he was dead and all) even he could admit that it was pretty good.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian,” Four dropped in casually after the blissed-out expression on Six’s face from his first taste of the drink had faded.

He shrugged. “I don’t really, I only know a little bit. It’s just that numbers are pretty easy, and it’s good to know how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in as many languages as possible, you know?”

Four nodded. “Can’t fault that logic.” When the corner of Six’s mouth lifted up at that, Four had to look back down at his drink to hide the slight warmth to his face. His shin was the recipient of another attack from the absolute devil across from him, but he just kicked back and refused to look at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” One’s raised voice drew Four’s eyes to that end of the cobbled-together tables in time to see Three raise his hands in a placating gesture, though he didn’t look the slightest bit remorseful.

“Nothing, jefe, nothing at all.” 

Four hadn’t heard the beginning of the conversation, but he was pretty sure it had meant something. He sipped his mochaccino, torn between breaking up the conflict and enjoying the show.

“Now, boys, remember the rules,” Two interjected, and she had to be fucking with One this time, right? “No fighting while we’re out in public.”

“‘No fighting while we’re out in public,’” One mocked before shifting his glare from Two back to Three.

“Alright, I think that’s our cue.” Four grabbed Six’s arm as he rose, leaving his nearly empty cup on the table.

“Hey, don’t get lost,” One told them, the movement apparently enough to momentarily distract him from his argument with Three. “Meet back at the car in a couple hours. That shouldn’t be difficult, it’s very hard to miss. And try not to get caught fucking in an alley or something,” he added like he thought it was a real concern. “I know you’re ghosts but we really don’t need another public nudity scandal.”

Four’s face felt like it was on fire, and he was sure it was flushed a deep red. Damn British tendency to blush easily. “Won’t be a problem,” he managed, somehow keeping his voice steady before turning to flee the scene of his mortification. He thought he heard Five mutter something that sounded like “Tactless bastard” as he hauled Six out of the café by the wrist. His only consolation came in the form of Six himself and his similarly pink face. At least Four wasn’t alone in his embarrassment.

When they emerged onto the fairly crowded street, Six looked over at Four, a mix of curiosity and caution written across his features. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, seemed to think better of it, and tilted his head to the side instead. “Let’s go this way.”

Four realized he was still holding onto Six when the other man started to walk in that direction, but as soon as he let go Six reached back and wrapped his own fingers around Four’s wrist. It was easy to see why once they started moving through the throngs of people; they would have quickly been separated without the tether. Eventually the crowd thinned enough for the two of them to walk side by side and Six relinquished his hold on Four (physically, of course). Against his will, Four found himself mourning the loss of contact.

Coffee might not have been his thing, but Four could certainly get behind architecture, and Italian architecture really was something else. Four gazed up at the buildings they passed as they continued down the street, plotting routes that he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to run that day. It was a shame, truly, but he supposed he’d get his time the following morning. In fact, he’d have his work cut out for him, so it was best to rest now. At least, that’s what he told himself to quell the itch under his skin. Was it successful? Not important.

The building next to them, in particular, had an absolutely beautiful, climb-worthy design, and it wasn’t long before Four found out why.

“Come on!” Six said, grabbing Four’s sleeve and dragging him over to an archway that opened onto a grand courtyard. “It’s the Uffizi, we have to look at the art while we’re here!”

Ah, so it was a museum. That made sense.

Six’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Four found himself smiling almost as wide as the other man until Six halted in front of him. Four peered over his shoulder to see the sign that had brought Six up short.

“Damn,” Six whispered. “I didn’t bring money for tickets.” He glanced back at Four, who put his hands up.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t even have anything before I died.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, but if Six noticed his slip up, he chose not to mention it. Four wondered if it was out of respect for One’s rules about not discussing their pasts, or if he’d picked up on Four’s desire to avoid the subject for his own reasons. Instead, Six looked back at the archway, and Four followed his gaze. There were two security guards checking tickets, and Four knew he and Six were thinking the same thing. They could probably sneak into the museum fairly easily, but they’d been instructed to fly under the radar, and getting caught would definitely put them on the radar. With a sigh, Six turned away from the museum, Four following a half step behind him. He clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry mate, I’m sure we’ll find a way to entertain ourselves.” Entirely without his permission, Four’s mind flashed back to One’s comment and he bit his lip as he felt his face heat again. It was just getting old, at that point.

Six must have remembered it as well, because when their eyes met, both men burst into laughter. It felt good to be able to just replace the awkwardness with humor, and after they both calmed down, the easy atmosphere remained. It really wasn’t difficult to keep themselves busy; there were a lot of things to see even in that small part of Florence, and when all else failed, Four already knew that he could happily listen to Six talk for hours (and for what it was worth, Six didn’t seem to mind listening to Four either). Four even managed to stay on the ground the whole time, although he couldn’t deny that a significant motivator was the fact that One had already broken his own rule and Four would be damned before he passed up this chance to demonstrate his superiority. It seemed like only minutes had passed when Four glanced down at his watch and realized that they should probably head back to the car.

It turned out that they hadn’t needed to bother moving quickly, as they were the first ones to return. They had been leaning on the passenger side of the car for a few minutes, Six’s shoulder brushing against Four’s in a very distracting manner, when a shout from up the street startled them both. When they looked up, it was to see two heads, one blond and one brunette, dodging and weaving frantically through the crowds. They didn’t appear to have any pursuers at the moment, but both Six and Four knew that wasn’t a guarantee of safety. When Two and Five skidded to a halt in front of the two men, both speaking over each other, it was Four who quieted them.

“What happened?” he shouted. They were getting some strange looks from the average civilians of Italy at this point, but there seemed to be more pressing issues.

“I was an innocent bystander!” Five shouted back at the same time as Two argued, “It wasn’t my fault!"

“Okay, I don’t think we have time for this,” Six said, asserting some semblance of order over the situation as he rounded the front of the car to get to the driver’s side door. “Everyone, get in the car.”

Four, by virtue of being the closest to it, managed to slide into the passenger seat before anyone else could. Just as Two and Five were tumbling into the backseat, another yell pierced the air and Four stuck his head out to see Three barreling up the street from the opposite direction that Two and Five had run from. Five held the door open for him, and as he practically fell through it onto the seat, he grimaced.

“This one’s on me, guys. Lo siento,” he gasped. Four rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine, just go,” he said, the last bit directed at Six, who was already pulling onto the street.

When no gunshots rang out behind them, Four breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax into his seat. At least, until Five spoke up from the backseat.

“Hey, does the car feel a little… spacious to anyone else?”

Four saw his growing horror reflected in Six’s eyes just before the driver pulled a (probably illegal and definitely dangerous) U-turn in the middle of the road.

“ _Fuck_ , we forgot One!”

* * *

By the time One was finished lecturing (read: screaming) at the rest of the ghosts, it was well past sunset and none of them felt like going out for dinner (it turned out the one breath of fresh air was plenty to tide them all over), so they ordered room service and ate in silence. Four had long since decided he didn’t want to know exactly what shit Two, Five, and Three had gotten themselves into, and Six seemed to be of a similar mind. That didn’t mean they didn’t pick up some information through osmosis. Two’s conversation with One had gone something like this:

“They challenged me. What was I supposed to do, say no?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you were supposed to do! In fact, I’ve got a challenge for you. I challenge you to say no to the next challenge issued to you.”

“Mmm, no. Oh look, you were right, that felt pretty good.”

Four assumed One’s lack of response was due to his monumental effort to keep himself from strangling Two on the spot.

When the almost painfully awkward meal was finally finished, Five ambushed Four as Two pulled Six aside (all of the numbers were starting to give Four a headache, and he didn’t think he was the only one).

“So,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So,” Four repeated, mirroring her posture. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Come on, cut the bullshit. You like him.” She stated it like it was a simple fact, like she knew it beyond a doubt. Four still wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Anyone with a pair of working eyes can see the way you look at him.” Four scoffed, but it was mostly for show. Five seemed to recognize that, as she wasn’t put off by it. “And, they can see the way he looks at you, too.” Now, that was the dangerous part. If Four let himself believe that, let himself _hope_ like that, well, there were some paths that he knew he shouldn’t travel down, and they weren’t several stories up. He glanced over his shoulder, to where Two and Six were still conversing. Six caught his eye and smiled, and Four found the corner of his own mouth lifting up involuntarily.

“What’s your point?” he asked when he faced Five again, trying to sound annoyed. He wasn’t quite sure he succeeded.

“You should do something about it,” she told him gently, as if it were that easy. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Four had to remind himself that that was probably a rhetorical question. She didn’t need him to recite the list to her. “It’s a bad idea,” he settled on, casting his eyes downward as Five sighed.

“Just think about it, okay?” she tried again, and what the hell, he figured he owed her this much.

“I have,” he murmured before turning away.

Content to leave it at that, Four hoisted himself out of one of the windows of the hotel room. The building next to the hotel was close enough that he could touch its wall from his position at the window, so he leveraged himself up between the two buildings until he could climb onto the hotel’s roof. It was a beautiful night, clear and just the slightest bit cool, as many stars as one could hope to see in a city like Florence visible in the sky. Four stretched out on his back on the shingles, head pillowed on his hands, and just breathed the night air for a long moment.

Discounting the sounds of the city (club music, car horns, and sirens mixing in a strange, but not unpleasant, sort of symphony), the peace was only disturbed by the sound of a footstep on the shingles by the edge of the roof. Four propped himself up on his elbows to look toward the sound, and was only slightly surprised to see Six picking his way across the roof toward him. He refrained from speaking until Six was close enough to sit next to him, although he couldn’t quite contain his smile.

“How’d you get up here?” he asked once Six was firmly seated.

“Well, I didn’t go out the window like you,” the other man quipped, earning a soft huff of laughter from Four. He nodded his head back the way he came. “Fire escape. Got me most of the way up here, and it wasn’t difficult to climb the rest.”

Four nodded, already planning to use it to get down, if only to make sure Six didn’t hurt himself on the return trip. (If he was being honest, that wasn’t the only reason; climbing back down the same way he got up would have been much more difficult, what with gravity working a little too much in his favor.) They settled into a comfortable silence, during which Four returned to his reclined position. After a bit of shifting around, Six laid down next to him, their knees pressed together. Four’s focus was so completely stolen by the heat he could feel through the fabric separating their legs that he almost missed Six’s question.

“So, what are you doing up here?”

“Well, One had me grounded all day. Did you really think I wouldn’t end up here?”

It was Six’s turn to laugh quietly, and Four was grateful for the relative cover of darkness because he didn’t need Six to see just how much he enjoyed that sound. When he rolled his head to the side, he was a little startled by how close Six was. Realistically he knew they couldn’t have been too far apart, but now, staring up at the night sky, Six looked almost larger than life. It was true, what Four had said to Five; he had thought about it, and against his better judgement, was thinking about it now. Was thinking about how the lights of the city cast soft shadows over Six’s face, how tens of thousands of stars glittered in his eyes, how it would be so simple to lean over or even just say something, how it would be romantic as fuck to do it here, on a rooftop in Italy. But simple wasn’t the same as easy, and when Six looked over at him, Four wrenched his gaze back up to the sky. He could still feel Six’s eyes on the side of his face, burning like brands.

“Are you scared?” Six didn’t have to specify what he was referring to; they both knew.

“Never,” Four replied, but it came out softer than it ever had before. That was as good an excuse as any, he thought. It was a bad idea to do or say anything tonight that could jeopardize the mission tomorrow. Of course, it stopped working once the mission was over, but maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Well, good luck anyway.”

“Wishing me good luck is bad luck,” Four said, grin audible in his voice. Six grinned back.

“I’ll remember not to do that next time, then.”

Four could do this. He could hold his tongue until they completed tomorrow’s mission, and then, well, then he’d have all the time in the world to figure out exactly what to say to the man with stars in his eyes. Just the thought of it made his chest feel like it was filled with bubbles, but it could work. It would work, he’d make sure of it.

The next day, it all went to shit.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Six dies and Four has Regrets.
> 
> Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get sad at the end there. Six’s death hurt me, I guess that means I’ll be making it hurt everyone else too. By the way, did anyone else find it hilarious that the producers were like “Hmm, yes, Dave Franco but only for the first twenty minutes”? I personally would have kept him around longer, but maybe that’s just me.
> 
> Anyway, I have way too many thoughts about this movie. For example, I like to think Three would call One “jefe” when he was annoyed or pissed off, to the point where One thought it meant bastard or something like that until Five told him it means boss, and Three was just being sarcastic and petty. I might have to write more fics just to subject you to more of my notes.


End file.
